I Don't Know How To Forget You
by Coolcauldron
Summary: A post-war Hermione/ Viktor fic with dark themes and a twist. Hermione Granger never expected her life to become this: a global saviour, a teen mother, and utterly alone. Alone that is, until a certain Bulgarian Seeker makes a reappearance into her life. AU
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Hermione Granger shot up in bed, disrupting the panic stricken nightmare she was having. It was a vague thing, filled with a sense of disgust and pale blonde hair and the ripping of her clothes. The young witch ran a hand through her hair, slightly less bushy now that she was older.

Hermione's life had changed greatly since the end of the war. With the death of Dumbledore, she, alongside Harry and Ron, had dropped out of her seventh year at Hogwarts in order to join the war. Many lives had been lost, amongst them her own parents. Hermione had been devastated, throwing herself into the war effort with renewed vigor in an attempt to avenge them. Her parents had been only dentists, there was no need to kill people who had no idea why you hated them and yet they were targeted simply because their daughter was a witch.

It was during the war that Hermione found herself in a sticky situation. She, at the age of sixteen, was pregnant. The fallout of such an action, and the cause for it, was enough to send her allies into uproar. Harry was still hardly able to look at her out of guilt, though the insecure part of her brain whispered that it was out of disgust that her best friend could no longer look her in the eye.

Harry was not the only to have his relationship to fall apart with the young witch. Ron had been unable to cope with what had happened to Hermione. Whatever might have been could no longer be possible, Ron was too young and immature to deal with the emotional aftermath of what had happened nor could he step up to deal with Hermione's unborn child.

After the war ended, Hermione had returned home to bury her parents and then fled into the wizarding world to rebuild her life. As one of The Golden Trio, Hermione had the option of taking up any job she pleased. It was one of the perks of being a global hero and Hermione had taken advantage of it, feeling it only fair after what she had gone through.

At seventeen, Hermione took up a job as a Healer in St. Mungo's. She had been all too happy to take the required N.E.W.T.s and had received 'Outstanding' in all of them. With a job, Hermione had been able to find a small house not far from St. Mungo's. It was a cozy home with a clash of muggle and wizard culture. Hermione was determined for her child, no matter where it came from, to grow up without preconceived ideas of quality based on heritage.

The pregnancy had been the second scariest period of her life, following the war. Without her mother to turn to for advice, Hermione had been terrified of it going wrong somehow.

Beyond that fear, Hermione had been utterly terrified that she would be unable to love her child. That when she gave birth, all she would see where the dark memories of where the baby had come from and not that it was its own innocent being. Hermione's fears proved unfounded.

The young Healer had become the proud mother of a beautiful daughter that day, whom looked almost exactly like her mother. The only difference between the two were her daughter's grey eyes in place of Hermione's hazel. Hermione had fallen in love with her daughter the moment she lay eyes on her.

At nineteen, life had begun to fall into place easily for Hermione. Her original plans upon finding she was a witch at age 11 had changed drastically. Hermione had planned to study at Hogwarts, become top of her class, secure a good job and work for a few years, find a nice man and hopefully settle down. Never had she guessed that she would be pulled into a war, lose her family, fall pregnant, and have to raise her daughter as a teen mother.

Hermione glanced at her alarm clock, realizing she had spent nearly an hour in deep thought once more of the rotten hand she had been dealt. Jolting as she now noticed it was 7:30, Hermione threw aside her bedding and rushed to get her daughter ready for daycare.

Getting ready for the day was always a hassle in the Granger household. Hermione had developed an incessant need for knowledge at a young age and her daughter was no different. After wrestling the grumpy two year old from her bed, Hermione threw together a breakfast of toast while scrambling to pack her satchel with healing supplies.

"Mama, where you go?" Mia, her daughter, asked in the curious but broken language that most young children seemed to possess.

"To the hospital," Hermione answered patiently, a fond smile crossing her features for this was a question she was asked almost every time they went somewhere.

"Why?" Another question Mia seemed to love.

"To heal people who have boo-boos," Hermione answered, setting aside the satchel and pushing the piece of toast towards her daughter firmly.

/page break/

After managing to wrangle Mia into a pair of miniscule robes, Hermione dropped her off at the quaint wizarding daycare on the way to St. Mungo's.

The young witch made it into the hospital, slightly frazzled, with minutes to spare. Flashing her colleagues a friendly smile as they chirped hellos, Hermione dashed to the break room to clock in and check her schedule.

The Healer had just put back the schedule, having found that she would be working on the fourth floor, or Spell Damage, releasing a groan as a memo from the supervisor, Octavia Scottsfield, flew into the room. Shrugging into the lime green robes required of her uniform, Hermione hurried down to Scottsfield's office.

A timid knock, and a friendly "Come in!" later found Hermione stepping into the office. It was large, decorated with floor to ceiling bookshelves and a portrait of Mungo Bonham took up most of the space above the supervisor's desk. Mungo blinked down at them serenely, taking in everything with an air of calmness.

"You asked for me?" Hermione spoke up, pausing before the desk and straightening her spine confidently.

Octavia was a stout woman, a bit on the plump side with a motherly feel. She had tiny round spectacles on a chain that usually perched on the end of her nose and thin, grey peppered hair tied into a knot on the nape of her neck. Hermione knew Octavia had been in the hospital the longest of all the employees, hence why she was supervisor.

"So I did. Ms. Granger, you have done an exceptional job here at our hospital and I have come to believe that your talents could be used elsewhere," Octavia wasted no time, straightening the papers on her desk factually as she stood.

"You're firing me?" Hermione glanced up, shock and disbelief painted on her face.

"On the contrary my dear girl, it's a promotion. We will be transferring you to a less adequately staffed hospital where you will supervise," the supervisor explained, a rare tone of affection entering her voice as she spoke.

"M-Me, I don't know, I…would be honoured," Hermione managed to spit out, stammering in her shock.

"Good, good, your transfer information. You'll be expected there tomorrow and you may take today off to prepare," the supervisor passed over a sheet of paper, containing all of the info Hermione would need about her new job.

"And Ms. Granger?" Hermione turned back to Octavia Scottsfield, surprised to see a kind smile on her usually stern face.

"It's been a pleasure working with you."

 **An: alright, I know that may have been a bit dull but I wanted the first chapter to catch us up on Hermione now that the war's over. Next chapter, things should pick up. Some of you can already probably guess how Hermione came to have Mia and you're probably right but I won't reveal it just yet!**

 **For clarity, Hermione is 19, Mia is 2, and Viktor is 23. Also we'll probably see some of him in the next chapter. Please review, I'd love some feedback.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Hermione left the hospital still in a state of shock, switching from the lime robes to casual muggle clothing with a flick of her wand. Mia's daycare teacher had been surprised to see her, only half an hour after dropping the toddler off. Hermione managed to explain in a dazed manner, leaving after several congratulations from the staff.

Typically on weekends the mother-daughter duo could be found in the library or bookstores, the love of books passing down to Mia. Sometimes they could be found in the muggle grocer store down the block from their house or at the park.

Hermione glanced down, brows lifting in surprise as she scanned the piece of paper. "Bulgaria?"

"Mama? What Borgary?" Mia's head popped up from where she had been watching her own feet splash through puddles.

"It's where Mama's new job is," she spared the two year old a smile, soon distracted by reading the paper over.

"We go?" Mia seemed excited by the prospect, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

Hermione tucked the paper into her pocket, ruffling Mia's brown curls fondly before tugging them into a discreet alleyway to apparate.

/page break/

Hermione and Mia reappeared with a sucking sensation in the main lobby of Hill Crest's Magical Infirmary. The hospital was much smaller than St. Mungo's, with only two floors and five staff including Hermione.

The lobby was a cozy little room, one wall lined with padded chairs and a coffee table covered in wizard magazines and newspapers. Hermione smiled fondly at the sight of _The Quibbler_ laying on it, turning to take in the room fully. Potted plants hung from the ceiling, Anjelica flowers that swayed slowly in dance.

A check-in desk was situated in a small alcove opposite the seating area, a young woman with olive skin and dark hair glancing up as the pair apparated.

"Can I help you?" A confused but friendly smile crossed the witch's face. It was obvious that neither Hermione nor Mia seemed injured or ill.

"Oh, I'm Hermione Granger, I start tomorrow," Hermione explained, gesturing to her daughter shortly after. "This is Mia, my daughter. She wanted to see where I worked."

"Well isn't she adorable," the woman complimented, smiling kindly at the toddler that had hidden herself behind Hermione's leg. Mia had a habit of being reserved around strangers or even people she already knew. Mia had never quite gotten used to Ron, she seemed to sense subconsciously how much he had resented her.

"Thanks." Hermione shifted Mia, scooping her up into her arms.

"Oh, I'm Tansy Weatherworth," Tansy introduced herself sheepishly. "I can't wait to work with you tomorrow," she exclaimed excitedly, looking as if she would say more when suddenly a young man, whose nose had been replaced with an elephant trunk, stumbled in.

"I should probably get out of your hair," Hermione waved to Tansy, hoisting her daughter and heading out into the chilly Bulgarian winter. The village, Skrino, was much smaller than London but had a small-town vibe that Hermione liked immensely.

"Mama we go in?" Mia suddenly tugged on Hermione's hand, pointing at a tiny grocer store with Cyrillic writing on its signs.

"Alright," the young mother agreed, intrigued by the Bulgarian store and allowing her excited two year old to pull her inside.

/page break/

Viktor Krum sighed, rolling his neck in an attempt to ease the soreness that had come from back-to-back practices. After the war, Viktor had returned to Quidditch but had moved away from the hustle and bustle of Sofia, the capitol. The Seeker now lived in the quaint village of Skrino where few followed the sport.

Sure, there was still the odd fangirl that tried overzealously to seduce him, sent him panties in the mail or slipped them into his pocket. Sometimes he still got stopped by kids in the streets to sign autographs but other than that his life was quiet. Viktor couldn't help but wonder if he was lacking something at times.

He had had several relationships since the war's end, though none had amounted to much. They were means to an end, ways of releasing tension and Viktor was a young man. He had had needs that those girls could provide. It was when they wanted more that the Seeker skipped out on them.

Viktor found that something was missing with those girls, they weren't the quiet intellectual type that he had come to look for in every girl. His exes didn't have honey locks that were slightly bushy, or hazel eyes, they didn't have that smile that lit up the room.

Viktor shook his head, getting rid of thoughts of Hermione as he pushed open the door to a tiny grocer store not far from his home.

The Seeker wandered the aisles, not paying much attention but knowing he needed to find the aisle dish soap was kept in. His house elf, Nin, had mentioned they were running low this morning. Viktor had the inkling that if he didn't buy some soon she would use her own wages to procure some.

Viktor had just reached the aisle, not paying attention to the young woman at the end, when she turned and something about her bronze locks caught his attention.

Hermione was different from the last he had seen her, something he had expected given it had been nearly five years since they had last been together. She was taller with a more reserved air, not shy per say but solemn with some unidentifiable weight. Her hair was no longer as bushy, albeit a bit frizzy, falling in thick ringlets to her waist. Her face had lost its childhood roundness, taking on mature angles while her body had filled out into a woman's.

It was then that she glanced up, hazel eyes locking on him and her brows drawing in slightly with confusion and hope. Viktor worried for half a second that she wouldn't recognize him.

He had just opened his mouth to say something, to ask her if she had forgotten him so easily, when her body slammed into his, arms clutched around his torso in a bone crushing hug that he gladly returned.

/page break/

Hermione had often wondered of where and what Viktor was up to, every now and again she would see news of his Quidditch career in _The Daily Prophet_. His picture had always given her a small shock but it was nothing to seeing him in person.

Hermione had figured the two would likely never see each other again, him living in Bulgaria and she in Britain. Viktor was a fond memory, one she couldn't seem to forget, and despite what they might have had; Hermione tried to move on with her life. She couldn't pine after him forever, she had had Ron and a war and now Mia.

 _Merlin, he's tall,_ was the first thing to cross her mind upon seeing him in the tiny grocer store. Viktor had grown quite a bit since their last encounter. He had always been a bit hunched in the shoulders, duck footed in the way that only those comfortable in the sky could be. Viktor had been lanky during her fourth year but he was no longer so, he had become a man.

In place of gawky teenage disposition was a confident air, probably an effect of the two feet he had grown and the abundance of sheer muscle. His features were the same but aged; his nose still hooked from taking a Bludger too many to the face, his lips still held in that ever present indifference. His features had always been sharp, many would find them too much so, but to Hermione they had always been attractive in a manly, rugged sort of way.

Before she knew what she was doing, the young witch had crossed the aisle and had flung herself into him, hugging what she could reach of him.

"Viktor, I can't believe, I don't," Hermione stumbled in her eagerness, pulling back to beam up at him excitedly.

"Herm-own-ninny, you need to take a breath," Viktor chastised, the mispronunciation of her name sending a small thrill though her. It had been too long since she had heard her name that way.

Hermione took in a deep breath, releasing it dramatically to make Viktor chuckle. "It's been too long. I've missed you," Hermione admitted softly, honestly. She twisted her fingers nervously, afraid she was revealing too much.

They had lost contact in the war, knowing it was dangerous to keep a relationship with Voldemort out for blood. The knowledge didn't stop Hermione from missing him, nor did it keep her from getting her hopes up every time an owl arrived for her; only to be disappointed when it bore no mail from her Bulgarian.

"I haff missed you too," Viktor smiled, reaching out to stop her wringing hands.

"How hav-" Hermione was cut off by the pitter patter of Mia's tiny converse as she toddled over, having been browsing the colorful bottles lining the shelf. Viktor hadn't seemed to take notice of her quite yet, no doubt unable to see the small girl behind the shopping cart.

"Mama, what this? Can I try?" Mia held out a bottle of Bulgarian soda, grape flavored if Hermione was still able to read Cyrillic correctly.

"That is soda, and no, you definitely don't need this," Hermione crouched next to Mia, extracting the bottle from her hands gently.

"It pretty," Mia pointed to the display of glass bottles containing different flavors of soda.

"It is," Hermione laughed lightly at her daughter's antics. She stood, realizing that Viktor was staring down at the mini-Hermione with shock.

"Viktor," Hermione caught his attention with a sheepish smile, twisting the bottle of soda nervously in her hands, "this is my daughter, Mia."


	3. Author's note

**Author's note:**

 **Hi guys, I just wanted to thank all of you for favoriting, following, and/or reviewing! This note was mainly to clear up some confusion.**

 **Yes, Hermione is a single mom on her own so to speak, but she wasn't meant to be seen as completely without help. I haven't yet brought Mama Weasley into the story but you can assume she had help from Molly! Secondly, Hermione probably wouldn't be moving to Bulgaria right away what with her home in London, it's more probable to assume she would apparate to and fro.**

 **Anyways thanks so much for the support and I hope that made things clearer.**

 **-Coolcauldron**


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 _Her daughter?_

Almost immediately, Viktor knew that this was not Ron Weasley's child. The young girl lacked the vivid red hair that all Weasleys sported, lacked any of his features truly from what he could tell. The child was a small carbon copy of Hermione with silkier hair that fell in baby curls, a cherubic face, and surprisingly steel eyes. They lacked the hardness such metal was renowned for but it was evident that of all the looks bestowed upon Mia by Hermione, she lacked her mother's hazel eyes.

 _Whose child is she then?_ Viktor could not recall seeing anything in _The Daily Prophet_ about Hermione dating any other male wizards, though perhaps it was simply that she kept under the radar. Whomever the man was, Viktor reckoned that he was a lucky bastard.

"She's beautiful, I am sure you and your husband are very happy," Viktor smiled, glancing at the bashful child, whom was staring up at him silently as if to evaluate him.

The sound of glass breaking brought him out of it, Hermione crouching down with a curse to stop Mia from attempting to 'help' clean up the dropped soda.

"I'm sorry, so klutzy, so stupid.." Hermione trailed off, mumbling under her breath as straightened with her daughter in her arms.

"It is an accident, Herm-own-ninny. You are not stupid," Viktor argued, brows furrowing at the way she seemed to belittle herself for such a simple accident.

Mia chose that moment to speak, startling both adults with her words. "Are you my Daddy?"

Viktor glanced to Hermione, whose face was burning a scarlet shade. _So she is single then._

"I can not say I have the honor. I am Viktor, a friend of your Mum," he corrected, smiling at the child gently ,who to Hermione's disbelief, smiled back childishly.

"Would you care to join me, I could show you the sights?"

Hermione debated the question internally, going with him meant reminiscing which wasn't something she cared to do often these days. Refusing meant parting ways, something she was even more reluctant to do.

"Alright," Hermione agreed hesitantly, momentarily stunned by the beaming smile he turned on her and the overjoyed expression on Mia's face.

/page break/

Viktor had insisted upon paying the grocer's manager for the soda, given they were in a muggle store and could not simply use a _Reparo_ spell to fix it. Hermione had tried to rebuff his offer, finally giving in out of exasperation.

Skrino was a charmingly small town, beautiful nonetheless; even in winter. They found themselves in a large library, nearly deserted in the snowy afternoon. The children's section proved to be complete with a play area which Mia dashed into without glancing back.

Hermione settled into a chair nearby to keep an eye on her, nearly forgetting Viktor was there as she relaxed in such a familiar atmosphere.

Small talk soon gave way to more serious subjects, and eventually the war. It was a touchy subject for Hermione, given her torture and attack alongside the deaths of so many loved ones.

"I think the thing I felt most was…alone," Hermione admitted, in response to Viktor's questioning about how she had felt about her part in the war effort.

"Vhy vould you feel alone?" Viktor's brows crinkled as if confused by the statement.

"There's a lot you don't know about the consequences of war, Viktor," Hermione admitted, glancing towards Mia.

No one had truly understood why she kept Mia, none except for Molly Weasley. When the truth came out, there has been so many people making her offers. Offers to help, to have Mia adopted out, to make appointments for abortion, no one had really realized that it was something Hermione had to figure out on her own. There had been too much death, too much pain. It all rested on whether or not Hermione had been able to look past Mia's origins and love her regardless. _How had anyone thought she was capable of killing an innocent child?_

Molly had understood, had held Hermione when she sobbed, listened when she needed advice or just someone to rant to. Molly hadn't tried to press her into a decision, she had allowed Hermione to make it while supporting whatever she would choose.

"I think I can keep up," Viktor commented, the words might have sounded cocky coming from anyone else. With Viktor, they sounded sympathetic, sincere.

"I lost my parents." It was a start at the very least. The tip of her iceberg of baggage.

"I am sorry," Viktor reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it soothingly. "I lost my father," he admitted, quieter than before.

Hermione said nothing, squeezing his hand back empathetically, no words needed to communicate their mutual grief.

"You are still the same girl, Herm-own-ninny. Var did not harden your heart," Viktor whispered, searching her face for some sign he was right.

"I'm not. I'm not the girl you knew in the Triwizard Tournament," Hermione insisted. Their relationship had been balanced on the tip of a needle point, ending the moment he went back to Durmstrang though they kept in touch.

"Things change," Hermione gestured to Mia who was playing gleefully, unknowing of the solemn conversation taking place only a table away.

"You sound as if you are saying goodbye," Viktor's hand gripped her own more firmly, as if to keep her anchored there. "I do not care if you have a daughter, Herm-own-ninny, I am not that kind of man," Viktor reprimanded, a tone of slight offense coloring his words.

Hermione's lips parted, as if to say something more, when a small curly head appeared next to his elbow. Viktor turned, glancing down at Mia with a kind smile. Before he could say anything to her, the child surprised him once more.

"Don't make Mama sad. Don't like when she sad," Mia mumbled reproachfully. "She get sad at night," she tacked on.

Glancing at Hermione, who would not meet his eyes, Viktor returned to Mia. "Vhy is she sad, _malûk_?"

"Mama see t'ings in her dreams that make her sad, she cry," Mia stared at her mother with big, round eyes, looking as if she might burst into tears herself.

Hermione said nothing, reaching out and pulling the toddler into her lap with a _sniff,_ holding the tiny frame close in comfort. Mia turned, burrowing into the embrace and burying her face in the crook of Hermione's neck. The display was endearing but Viktor was concerned about what Mia had said. _Why was Hermione having nightmares? Who or what caused them?_

"I should get her home," Hermione whispered, Mia had fallen asleep in that position. Nodding, Viktor helped her up, before she could go he grabbed her arm gently.

"Please, Herm-own-ninny. Say you vill see me again. I vant to help, let me be your friend," he pleaded, fervently hoping she would say yes.

A surge of relief reached him as Hermione nodded, a guarded look creeping into her eyes. Hopefully with time, he could help remove that look.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 _The blade cut into her arm, her high pitched screams falling on deaf ears as her captor continued to carve the slur into her arm._

 _Her head fell to the side, the light catching on his long, greasy white-blond hair as he sneered at her. His son watched from the corner, utterly horrified as her deadened eyes locked on him._

 _Hermione didn't plead with Draco, only stared at him. The word he had so often called her, appearing on her arm in bloody letters; a ruin of her porcelain skin._

 _Mudblood._

Hermione shot up in bed, clothing plastered to her with sweat, tears running down her cheeks. For a moment, she panicked in the dark room. Her hand scrambled for her wand, stored under her pillow, holding it before her mouth with shaky hands.

" _Lumos,"_ Hermione whispered, turning the lamp on her bedside with a flick of her wrist.

Panting, Hermione allowed herself to relax as it became clear that she was safe at home, in bed.

 _Only a dream._

 _Only a memory._

/page break/

Molly Weasley, despite her disappointment that Hermione would not be her daughter in law, was firmly convinced that the best way for the Healer to get over her attack was to date. Hermione had been on several first dates in the past two years, all ending without further notice of a second date.

The men were nice enough, for the most part, it was something about the way their eyes would glance over her that made her skin crawl. It was a perfectly ordinary action, it was only reminiscent of a certain leer.

When they would pass behind her or touch her from behind, where she couldn't see them, Hermione would often startle violently; earning her odd looks from her dates. The young witch detested having her arm seen or touched, preferring to keep the scar well hidden.

Despite the many failures of her first dates, Molly remained resilient in the idea of Hermione recovering through meeting a nice wizard to date. Hermione often attempted to steer their conversations to other directions, often in vain.

It was with dread, not at seeing the Weasleys but at Molly no doubt attempting to wrangle her into another relationship, that Hermione gathered Mia into her arms and travelled by Floo powder to the Burrow. It had become tradition to come over for dinner every Sunday, all of them gathering to eat together.

The Burrow was as lively as ever, Hermione unnoticed as Molly chased George out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon. Arthur was in the living room, fiddling with a muggle television much to the chagrin of Percy. Ginny could be heard outside, shouting at Ron to bring Arnold the pygmy puff back down to the ground; apparently he had taken the puff up on a broomstick. Teddy, whom had just hit his terrible twos, was running away from Harry with a childish cackle; Harry's glasses clutched in a fist.

Hermione beamed, brushing the dirt from both her clothes and Mia's; feeling at home in the crowded, bustling Burrow.

"'Min!" Teddy shouted suddenly, dropping the glasses in favor of attempting to break Hermione's shins with a bear hug.

"Teddy," she greeted cheerfully, swinging the two year old up into her arms, Mia abandoning her for a hug from 'Uncle Harry'. "You're so strong, let me see your muscles," Hermione teased, laughing as the toddler struck his most macho flex.

When the two children noticed each other, they fought to be free of the adults before scampering out to play with 'Gin.' Hermione turned to Harry, noting his awkward expression. He still felt misplaced guilt about what had happened, Hermione could feel it, and she just wanted things to be back to the way they were before the war.

"Hello Harry," she smiled at him, receiving a nod in return. "Are you always going to be this way?" Hermione's smile faded, a lump forming in her throat.

 _Just look at me. I'm not broken._

"Excuse me," Harry mumbled, brushing past her and out of the room, leaving Hermione alone in the suddenly cold kitchen.

/page break/

"Come now, dear, isn't there anyone who's caught your eye?" Hermione had not been able to miss Molly's inevitable chat about men.

The two were in the kitchen, Hermione hand washing dishes as Molly dried them. With a sigh of exasperation, Hermione turned to the middle aged witch.

Her lips parted, the words about being busy with her new job freezing on her tongue. "There is someone," Hermione murmured, scrubbing a pot a bit more vigorously than necessarily.

"Oh! Is it a fellow from that new hospital of yours?" Molly turned a bright smile on the Healer, barely containing her arsenal of questions.

"No. I've actually known him for a few years, we just haven't been in touch. Mrs. Weasley?" Hermione handed her the last pot, turning to face her but not meeting her eyes.

"Do you think it's possible to love? If you're like me?" Hermione glanced up, meeting Molly's eyes unsurely.

There was so much about rape no one ever mentioned to her. The way it was only a four letter word, disconnected from her because no such thing would ever happen. It was horrible and it happened in the world, but never to her, right?

When it did, the word didn't seem to express all of the aftermath. It didn't tell her about the gut wrenching self-hatred, the disgust, the fear, the anger, the shame.

 _One person couldn't feel all that. They'd explode._

Molly didn't answer, only pulled Hermione into a hug.

"It's always possible to heal," Molly whispered to her.

Hermione allowed herself to believe it was true.

 **An: to clear up confusion, Hermione has been to work after seeing Viktor, I just didn't think it was important enough to put into a chapter. I would have put their next interaction into this chapter but I felt it important to see Hermione interact with the Weasleys. Harry's not an asshole, I swear. I have plans for him ;)**

 **Also: DRACO IS NOT THE ONE WHO RAPED HER!**


End file.
